poems

I’m not sure.

I’m not sure.

16/04/18

I’m not sure why the wind blew in the wrong direction to our beautiful collaboration.

But I’m glad we saw it, caught it and blew honey all over it.

Glad for the sticky paw, no more wars, cornier than thou consortium applause.

Glad for the all fours, knee’s sore back how we were before, outlaws.

I’m not sure why the wind blew in the wrong direction to our beautiful collaboration but without hesitation I appreciate our indescretion.

I’m glad we saw it, caught it and chucked it back in the pulpit.

Both the victims and the culprits.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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poems, Short poems

Tested

Tested

09/04/2018

I watched her purity read my spirit.

I watched her thirst drink my mind.

I refueled my forgiveness when she placed her hand in mine.

She read my every thought with a finger down the line.

A sentence to the solitude “I’m not yours but you are mine”

I watched her purity read my spirit.

I succumbed unto her breast.

Was this a new reality?

Another of his tests?

© G.P Williamson 2018

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